Slytherin Queen
by Takeda Lee
Summary: Female!Blaise Zabini's life through her own eyes. Her take on Voldiemart, both the Ferret and Weasel Kings, freckles, Harry Potter and shagging in libraries. Cynicism can be fun, and even more, funny. R&R plz
1. Damn

Me?

I'm just your…well, not so average Slytherin.

My name is Blaise Gabriella Zabini. Tell anyone my middle name, and I will make no hesitation in pulling whichever sexual organs you happen to have from wherever they are in your body out through your mouth. Be it nuts or ovaries, I will pull them out through your mouth, then feed them back to you.

But, its ok. This is just between us.

Right…?

Yeah, thought so.

Further information will have to wait. I slept late, and I have some preparation to do. September 1st is a hectic day in this household, as everyone tries to get ready for their various happenings. Auntie has to get prepared for the trip to Hogwarts, as do I. Can't be late to my last year, now can I?

Something no one can ever know, is that Minerva McGonagall is actually my Aunt. She is my mother's sister, and although no one has ever put it together, I want it staying a secret. It wouldn't go over too well for the Slytherin Queen to have Gryffindor relations.

That would be horrible.

But enough of others, back to me.

You see, the Slytherin Queen…I, Blaise, must wake up 4 hours before I am due for the Hogwarts Express to even be prepared as I am to head off into my adoring public. It takes a lot to get one's hair perfectly layered and teased. It takes a lot to get these damned half-blonde, half-mahogany strands of hair into a style that is manageable for the whole day.

And it also takes a lot to rid myself of these damned freckles.

Yes, freckles. Make a comment, and I swear I will kick your ass from here to Shanghai. And that is a promise.

A curse from my mother's side, I must blot out their existence like pesky insects, to ensure the furthering of my career as the poster-girl for Witches' Weekly. No one wants an imperfect model to look up to.

A normal person would feel bad about deceiving all those people. But I am a Slytherin.

And I don't give a fuck.

Instead, I blot them out of existence, and then head on my way. I arrive on the train before everyone, staring at the wonders that someone with a stick of wood could do. The amazing ways that the connection with the earth through magic can allow us to ride this train so far, to read the castle where we are taught our own connection, instructed in our own bond to the earth. Our own bond to the planet beneath us. Around us. That we are as much a part of it as it is a part of us.

Damn I sound like a fucking sappy Hufflepuff.

Oh god I just gave myself a vomiting session there. Hufflepuffs…the people that have no point in existing in life. Yeah, sure, you may be looking at me as some kind of evil bitch for saying a whole group of people shouldn't live, but it's true. Ravenclaws, they can think stuff up, and make plans in war. We Slytherins, spies and all around sneaky, conniving bastards (and bitches in my case) are good at…everything. And Gryffindors, what of them you ask? Front Line. They can run their courageous asses out front, get blasted to all shit, and we can take it from there.

And their little god, Potter, can fucking lead them.

The front runner to the front line. How fun a thought.

Now, I have nothing wrong with the little bastard of a savior. None at all. I just hope he takes Voldemort out, and goes too. I hate that fuck of a little "Dark Lord." I could do better with a flu, personally. And I mean, come on, "Lord Voldemort." It sounds like a fucking Grocery Store. I mean, I wonder at times if I should ask him for paper or plastic.

You are looking at me weird, aren't you? The Slytherin hating the "Dark Lord." Sounds…off, huh?

And I mean, if you knew half the shit I knew about the all-powerful Voldie-Mart, you would have no respect for him either. Like…take the fact that he wants to have an heir. An heir to defeat Potter should he not be able to. First of all, that is a huge shame, a grown-ass man afraid of a fucking 17 year old.

Then the fact that he wants to breed with Bellatrix. Now, the woman is not ugly, quite pretty in a morbidly-gothic evil way. But, when you take these two pale, skinny fucks, and have them…well…fuck, you kinda end up with some very frightening results. Like, will the baby come out allergic to the sun or something? Something like that muggle entertainer, Michael Jackson perhaps. He performed in London not too long ago to have millions of people there to see him…Why, I asked. But I digress.

Now, if all of this is not odd enough, here comes the breaker. The…The fucking funniest thing I have ever heard in my life.

You see, for all the magical power that Voldemort supposedly has, for all the magic that he uses to control other people, the man(if you can call him that) can't control himself. Or more…parts of himself. To put it simply,

He couldn't maintain an erection if it meant killing Potter by doing so.

Yes, yes, laugh. Laugh your little asses off. I sure in the hell did. Ok, no I didn'd because its still there, and still bigger than I want considering I want to be a damn model, but once more, blame my genes.

Anyways, even more importantly, is how I know this.

My father.

The gullible fuck. He is a Death Eater. Yes, and that is why we are staying with Aunt Minnie. Yeah, Aunt Minnie. And the most sickening thought is, that I am supposed to be promised to…

"Hello Gaby."

Speak of the devil. Or…the ferret.

"What you stupid…" Calm Blaisy-Girl. "How can I help you, almighty Ferret King?"

This pissed him off, I guess. He growled and looked at me as if I had just committed insubordination. "You will respect me Zabini! I will not have you talking to me this way when we are wed." And everyone behind him nodded in agreement like he was some kind of preacher, and they agreed.

That's another thing. Everyone in Slytherin seems to love Draco Malfoy.

Everyone but me.

Just like Death Eaters are toe-lickers to Voldemort, Slytherins seem to be Junior Tea-Baggers in training for Lord Ferret.

And next to him, scowled Pansy Parkinson. I had been friends with that little fuck at some point, but ever since the arranged marriage to her little Rodent, she had been very…weird to me.

Not like I give a damn. I mean, everyone in Slytherin has had Pansy.

…

Are you waiting for me to say "accept me?"

Well, sorry, you won't be hearing it. I've had the little whore too. More than once, and often under the influence of something.

Hey! Most girls say the little slumber party story, where the spin the bottle to practice kissing boys progresses to lesbian experiences is all a lie.

Those Hos are lying to you.

It happens, at least it has to every female I speak to, and often with either Pansy, or some other slut. And now to play with all the guys out there's little fan-boy fantasies.

Imagine, if you will, the Slytherin girls, end of 6th year. Started with a pillow-fight that got sweaty. Ended with a mass kissing orgy on the floor of the Dorm Room before Snape walked in.

Ugh…Snape with an erection…

Obliviate me. Please. Before I kill myself.

But as I revel on my past experimentation, which I will never do again, the little Ferret before me has grown impatient. And he has began to speak again.

"Look Gaby, you need to learn…"

"No you stupid fuck, you need to learn. My name is Blaise…not Gaby, not Blaisey, not Baby, not Piece of Ass. Get it right. And know, Captain Ferret-Boy, I will not marry you. I will not look at you. I will not touch you unless it is to thoroughly lodge my foot cleanly up your sorry ass. Got it?"

Gotta love being taller than a Malfoy.

Funny as it is, the imposing Malfoy frame the Lucius clearly finds perfect, does not gain any real height until they are out of Hogwarts. Which placed Draco Malfoy at a solid 5' 3". And me being 2 inches above that, 3 on a good day, is always a plus. Especially when I get into my "Bitch" mode…well, more bitchy than I am normally.

Comment and I will kick your ass.

Speaking of which, it also helps to be able to kick his ass. Trust me, it's a fact. Done it many a times. Like when he tried to sneak into my bed late at night in 5th year. A knee to the groin put all thoughts from his head, and sent him to the floor, where I promptly kicked him repeatedly until he was outside the door, slammed it…on his hand.

Yes, I did get great satisfaction out of it...

Yes, sick sick satisfaction from hearing him cry outside. Puberty ignored him it seems, even now he sounds like a 10 year old girl with pigtails. Ha! Malfoy with piggy-tails…

The little shit looked about ready to pee his pants. Wait…I smell ammonia…did he?

Oh dear me, I think he did.

"Malfoy, out of my damned compartment before I do something to you that you deserve."

His snide look spread. "And what is that, Blaisey?"

"Rid the world of any chance of another Malfoy."

He didn't think I would. I could see it on his face. So, I did what any girl dared to do something would do. I did. And cursing my actions, I reached down, and grabbed him by his puny, baby balls that I am sure have yet to drop due to his high, squeaky voice, and made it higher. And I squeezed harder and harder until his eyes rolled back.

And then I kissed the slime on his cheek as I let go. It was patronizing and mean, and then I sent him and his groupies from my compartment.

And as I looked at my hand, which felt moist, and tentatively leaned in to smell it, I realized what…

"Aww shit, you disgusting animal. You pissed on yourself!"

And with that, off to wash my hands and try and scrape the skin off.

-----

The castle, I must admit is beautiful. An amazing place as the castle stands in the waning light of the evening sun and the train puts us in perfect position to see the sun reflecting through the stained glass in the windows of Gryffindor.

Too bad the windows stop one of them from falling out. That would be straight comedy. Some dumbass Gryffindor falling head first from the tower. Snickering and giggling were two things I pride myself in not partaking in, but at the thought of one of them plummeting like some kind of red and gold anvil brought it out of me.

Hands.

I feel them on my back, in the small of it as someone comes up next to me. I know the hands, and turn to look at who had deemed it important to touch me. Her dark brown hair was everywhere, as she stared me in the eyes.

"Blaisey…"

"Don't 'Blaisey' me Pansy. Don't you even think about it. Because you make me sick." I tried to make it come out venomously, something I am generally great at. But when someone is tracing circles along the small of your back, it gets difficult to be angry at them.

But I got away. Sad as it was, the girl truly did make me sick. I hated her and I hated the fact that, because we used to be close, she knew things about me that no one else knew.

"Damn you." I mutter even after she has gone, and make my way to the Slytherin dungeons. Yes, the dungeons. I am against the feast and sitting on my ass stuffing my face, and make it a point to, instead be constructive. In other words, get to my dorm, throw all those bitches stuff out in the hallway, lock the door and get the room to myself, if for nothing more than a night.

But as I am walking, I hear voices. Voices coming from the dungeons, the Potions classroom. Snape is often partaking in the delights of "stimulating" conversation with Dumbledore while eating, not knowing he has spinach in his teeth. But I am sure it is his voice.

Making my way toward the dungeons where I hear his voice, I begin to wonder. I hear another voice, and I don't understand why someone else would be down at this time. And why the voice sounded feminine. But upon making my way there, I would have turned back if I knew what kind of impact it would have on my life from that point on.

-----

They had left the door open. Although not a lot, it was cracked open, and they had gotten careless. Thinking everyone was at the feast and they were safe had let them get fairly cocky. Yes, so I stood there, looking through the rather large crack in the door. And literally wanted to gouge my eyes out at the idea.

Snape sat in his chair in front of his desk, while a redhead I know is "Ginny" Weasley sat on the desk in front of him. I heard bits of the conversation, but the general idea was, she needed better potions grades from her OWLs to qualify for NEWTs Potions, but she didn't get them. And she wanted to go into Auror Training like her dear boyfriend Potter after she finished school, and if she didn't have a NEWT in Potions, that wouldn't be happening.

So she had come there to ask Snape what she could do to get into the class. She had brought up some ideas about extra work, longer essays, things of the sort. Normally this would have been borderline acceptable to me. I mean, she was just looking for a better grade. But then…

Let's put it this way. My lunch didn't taste nearly good on its way back out as it did on its way in. Not by a bit.

Snape reached out and put his hand on the Weaslette's thigh. She looked at him for a moment, before he seemed to be telling her something. She looking scared and appalled for a moment, but then seemed to agree, albeit quite warily. I didn't know what was going on, but I got a good idea. A good enough idea when she went from sitting on the table to down on her knees in front of the Potions' professor, my bloody Head of House, and started unbuttoning his pants.

Oh someone kill me. Now! Please, this is just…so…wrong.

I shake myself from my disgusted mental exile and turn from the door. I don't really fancy watching Snape get himself…ugh. The idea makes my stomach turn in itself. But as I stand there, petrified, I hear something that bothers me a lot.

Snape starts to groan, before he moans something out. I swear I heard wrong, but then it comes again. "Oh…Lily."

Lily…oh dear goddess no, please, someone lie to me that I did not, in fact, just hear Snape…But my thought process ended upon thinking of the late Lily Potter. As another issue arose.

That of another Potter, a one Harry James if my sources tell me correctly, coming down the corridor. "Oh Shit…" I tried to keep my cursing down, but it didn't work. He heard me. Either that, or he heard Snape's pleased moans. I backed from the door, passing by the open crack I had turned from to get from the light cast from the room. I knew he saw me then, but I didn't care.

I wanted to see what was going to happen. Happen as he came toward me only to pass by the classroom. Pass by as Snape's hand held the red hair to his lap and his head flew back and he moaned loudly. And as luck would have it, he groaned out "Lily" once more.

The Weaslette sat up coughing some. Snape looked at her for a moment of thought through his euphoria, and mutter, "You know, you look a lot like her. Lily I mean."

She nodded. "Yeah, they tell me that a lot." She looked to be about to say something else when the door slammed open and Potter stood there in the doorway. And as I watched him stand there, I knew someone had lied when they called Potter the Golden Boy. They had lied when they said he was not only perfect, but a good little boy. Especially when he looked about ready to Unforgivable both of them.

And even worse would be the fact that…hold on, I have to go vomit as I think of this. Even worse is the fact that Ginny stood there, about to deny what we both had just witnessed, with…ugh…with Snape's…how had the muggle said it…"Cream Filling" running down the side of her mouth.

Oh god, this is really disgusting. Just…wrong. Just…horrible. And Potter growled and his anger was so powerful, all Snape's beloved potions bottles shattered, and their ingredients fell to the ground.

"Potter, 10 points from…" Snape started before he caught the boy's eyes.

"Snivellus, how _dare_ you defile the memory of my mother." Was all he said, before more glass shattered, and several shattered above Snape and fell onto his head, different liquids rushing over his head. Then he turned to Weaslette. "Weasley, 50 points from Gryffindor for _fucking_ a teacher and causing a public disturbance."

I watched him, and my admiration for the person who was Harry Potter grew by the second. Not for some lovey-dovey reason, but for the first time ever, I have seen someone who looks like they won't grovel and fall to the floor of a pale, red-eyed bastard who looks like a Vampire who hadn't slept in a long time.

It also could have been because of his aim.

Because it would go down in history as the first time Snape would be unable to undo a potion. For, you see, after Potter stalked from the dungeons, glass shattering all around him and the dumbass Weasley girl running after him, still not wiping her goddamned mouth, Snape had started trying to clear potions ingredients. Unaware of the ones that had, somehow fallen on his head.

The next morning Snape's scream awoke all of the Slytherin dungeons. Yes, he screamed like a _fucking_ girl.

And he came to breakfast 10 minutes late sporting a Bowler. And when told to remove it by Albus, saying it wasn't permitted in the dress-code, he removed it.

To reveal red hair with wisps of blonde throughout.

Bet that's the last time he has the 4th years practice on Hair-Color Altering potions and stores them on the top shelf, above his desk.

Dumbass.

It was so funny, I will admit the embarrassment that befell me upon seeing it. I, Blaise Zabini, perfection embodied, saw him, and proceeded to cover the table with the milk I had been trying to drink right before I saw him.

Ok, this is a fine reaction you say. Not when it comes out of your nose.

Yes, nasty, go ahead and be sick. But if that freaks you out and little Ginny giving the almighty Grease-King sucky-sucky didn't, then you are a warped individual.

It may have helped that the grease was washed from his hair, and therefore it had a great deal of volume, an amount most girls would kill for. So much so that Snape had a little mini-afro atop his head. And with the coloring, he looked like a fucking morbid clown. It was so bloody funny.

But as I looked, Potter wasn't laughing. No, he wasn't laughing with the rest of his table,

Because he wasn't there.

I groaned before becoming sick with myself. My body had found a way to get up from the table and begin heading from the Great Hall without my consent. But I am forever grateful I hadn't needed to make the trek up to the Gryffindor Tower, yes I know where it is, because he was sitting right outside the doors to the Hall.

"What is wrong with you Potter, you look like you just caught your girlfriend cheating…oh, I'm sorry, that's right…" I'm a bitch, I admit it. I couldn't resist though. But the chiding got no response from him. He sat, chewing on his muffin. Goddamned muffins. Hate those things.

"Potter, are you listening to me?" No answer from the little black-haired shit in front of me. Waving my hand in front of his face did nothing, as he sat, still eating the muffin. I grabbed the damned thing and launched it across the room. I was impressed by my aim, as I managed to smack a little first-year Hufflepuff upside the head with it somehow, but I turned back to Potter, who was finally looking up at me.

"What do you want Zabini. Come here to gloat about what you saw last night? If that's it, save it. I don't need it." He was a pitiful creature. Yes indeedy. But it was, in fact, sweet for him to look…

Hold on, back up.

Rewind.

'Sweet'?

What the fuck! Did I just call something pertaining a Gryffindor, nonetheless the god of all bloody Gryffindors "sweet"? Dear sweet goddess, I am out of my mind! Check me into St. Mungo's, sign me up for a padded room, I am a size 2 in straightjackets, and I can fit a 1 if need arise!

But he was standing. And it was then that I noticed how much taller he was. Taller than he had been before. At some point, even I had been taller than him, but with his easily approaching 6' 3" frame, I laughed at the thought of Draco attempting to torment him. That had ended the last year when the little growth spurt of dear Potter had begun. Its hard to intimidate someone who was at 5' 10" while you were pushing a good 5' nothing. And I figure, after the last time Potter transfigured him into a ferret and walked him around the school on a leash, Draco had ended his "torment" of the boy.

I looked up at him, and his solemn demeanor put me in a foul mood. I hate people being depressed around me, unless I caused it. And I hate that anyone had to walk in on the scene he had the night before. Hell, _I_ didn't want to walk in on it. Feel bad for _me. _I can't get rid of that thought now. It keeps popping up in my head. Shit, the last bastard who cheated on me was magically castrated, and then obliviated. Woke up the next morning wondering where his balls were…

And it had to just be horrid to have one's girlfriend compared to their mother and used for such. It was backwards progress, as Snape and Potter had buried the hatchet, per say, for some reason. And they had been in the least, civil to one another.

"Hey, buck up. Here, I'll give you permission of turn Malfoy into a ferret and walk him again."

"I don't need your permission. I did it last time, I will do it again if I feel like it." I would have been taken aback, but I saw the slight smirk on his face

"But you see, mister almighty Head Boy," And I did a bit of fancy wand work on the hair tie in my pocket, "You don't have the leash." And I pulled out the leash I had just transfigured, complete with a collar that had "Draco" on it, just the size for a ferret.

He smiled at me, and finally started laughing. "Good job Zabini, good bloody job." And he laughed some.

"Blaise."

"Huh?"

"Blaise. That's my first name." I knew he didn't know that. Potter wasn't the kind of person to call anyone by their surname outside of Malfoy and his cronies.

He nodded. "Isn't that a rather…masculine name you have there…" He muttered, smiling cheekily.

"Shut it Potter. Before I de-masculine-ize you."

He mouthed "what the hell" And was about to oh-so-kindly inform me of my crappy English when I simply rolled my eyes.

Well, this is funny, the Slytherin Queen and the Gryffindor King. Wonder how the kids will come out.

…

Kids?

Did I just say that…?

Please tell me I didn't.

…

I did?

…

Aw Shit…

I really do need help.

A lot of it.

Damn him, damn that Weasley-whore, damn Snape, and damn my damn self. Dammit. "Kids"? What the hell am I thinking. Potter…Me…

Dammit.

* * *

**A/N: Blaise is a girl here, don't bother with the "Blaise is a boy in canon" stuff...cause um...i don't care.  
This won't follow the FFO storyline, just some random similarities between the two just in character interaction. And um...that's it. R&R if you'd please, thankies.  
-TK**


	2. Fuck

Another Day,

Another morning or blotting the existence of freckles.

Only this time, I get to do it sneakily, instead of in my own mirror, as I am used to.

Why, you ask?

Fucking Pansy Fucking Parkinson.

That little Bitch-looking…Bitch.

Ever been kissed by someone of the same sex as you without your knowledge, consent, or want? It is not comfortable in the slightest. Especially when it is in your own bed at 3 am.

And the person is naked.

Butt-ass naked.

And groping you.

If I could have killed her, I would have. Screw that, I have thoughts of what to do to her that involve her apparent love for nudity, the Great Hall, and the middle of dinner.

Not a good idea to get on my bad side.

So at the moment, I am hiding away in the Prefect bathroom, praying to whatever higher power that no one feels the urge to use it at this time of morning. Because what an eyeful they would get.

Yep. Walk in to see me sitting here in nothing more than a thin nightgown and some boy's boxers that I have a love for.

God damn its cold in here this time of morning. Who the fuck builds a school in a stone castle? I mean, what kind of insulation are you getting from fucking rocks? I mean, what kind of moron…

Shit!

And as luck would have it, lo and behold, the Amazing Fucking Ferret enters the Prefect bathroom. And not only does he not see me, but the second he comes in, he loses his robe, to be standing, naked in front of me.

I think I am going to go blind.

My goddess, I want to go blind.

Someone blind me!

With the glare from the light off his pale skin, I just might. If it was any brighter in here, I am sure I would.

Paper would wish for his skin-tone.

Bleach would give him a tan.

And as I try not to vomit my stomach onto the floor, my dry-heaves have drawn his attention.

And caused…attention.

This is so not happening. Tell me its not happening.

If it is, kill me. Life couldn't be worse.

And then it did.

A lot worse. Worse in the form of a dark-haired boy with a towel in his hand and a whistle on his lips. Well…it used to be a whistle. I think the second he walked in on the scene he walked in on, his whistle stopped and he wished for death.

I would too if I walked in on Draco Malfoy with a boner, albeit a mighty miniscule one, while he looked at me, in all my boxer-clad glory.

I want to die.

No, I want to kill. Malfoy's ass is grass.

And I'm a fucking lawnmower.

I, Blaise Gabriella Zabini hereby state that I will be adopting a pet ferret. A white one. And it will be named Annabel. And I will dress it up in a pink tu-tu and walk it around the school.

But for now, I have to find a way to get to Potter, as he has turned and fled the scene of Malfoy's pale arse gaping at me like some kind of hormone-crazy 13 year old with his first erection. And I have to find a way to get away from said rodent, before he puts his hands, or worse, on me.

I make it from the bathroom only to find him in some kind of lusting pursuit after me. He gets 10 feet from the bathroom entry only to find that he was naked in the hallway, and there was a large group heading down the hallway in his direction toward the bathroom.

Turning the corner, I stop and sigh to myself. "It's guys like him that make a girl go lesbian…"

-----

Breakfast is light and easy, and it is only about 5 minutes in that I realize that Potter is watching me. Its not as much as others, like, say, Ferret-Boy, but enough that I notice. And enough that I feel…happy?

Enough to make it…cute?

Dammit, this is not good at all. I'm turning just a bit sappy. But, what can I say, I mean, I have never actually liked a guy before, after all, its always been them after me and not the other way around. But now, it almost seems like I don't know what to do when I catch him looking at me. Debating over an action to make, is _not_ Zabini-style.

I find myself all, '_If I flick my hair over my shoulder because it is tickling my face, will he think I am brushing him off, or acting arrogant?_' When I fucking need to brush the hair out of my face. I shouldn't care what he thinks about me!

But…I do.

And that freaks me out.

But there is only one thing that I can do when I feel out of control of a situation.

And that is take control back. Forcibly. By bending said situation to fit my own needs.

And I'll be damned if I don't….

"Dammit you sniveling little shit, what do you want."

"Blaise, I wanted to talk about this morning."

"Can it, Parkinson."

"Look, Blaise, I seriously think we need to talk about where this relationship is going." I was stunned out of my mind at hearing this. _Relationship_? What in the fuck is she talking about. I mean, come on now, what is that supposed to… "You gave me the impression this morning that you may not be into this as much as I am, and I need someone who wants this as much as I do. I need to know Blaise, if this is going somewhere or not. If not, I don't want to waste my time. Where is it going, Gaby."

Oh dear sweet Merlin, what is this stupid girl doing now? What is she going on about this time, talking about where is "this" going. "_It_" is going to hell, that's where, and when I get there, I intend to kick the shit out of "_it_" if "_it_" comes anywhere near me.

"Blaise, not Gaby you dumb bitch, Blaise." Was my only answer before I stood and walked away from her. I had Potions, and I needed time to get into my "Proper Slytherin Mindset," as they called it.

Can't have "star-pupil" Ickle Blaisiekins hating Snape, so I have to shut down that impulse, and therefore the working part of my brain, before class.

Come on, its hard to have respect for the Dark Supermart's fluffer.

Bastard. Its his own fault. Couldn't find a potion to fix erectile dysfunction, so therefore, he had to remedy the issue manually. And this train of thought always makes me laugh, which is exactly what I was doing when I walked in to class. And exactly what got me sat in the front of the classroom next to the redheaded twit called Ron Weasley.

Hey, you might be thinking, "Hey, but you are all smitten with Potter, why are you mocking Weasley." Simple. I'm still a Slytherin. And if you asked this question, you, my good friend,

Are a fucking idiot.

A bigger one that King Weasel sitting next to me. And, just for spite, I begin to hum that oh-so-catchy tune. He tries not to speak to me, seeing as he seems about ready to piss his pants, which I revel in before Snape deems it time to reveal the reason.

"Weasley, you are on a…probational period in this class, as your O.W.L scores were not high enough to gain you solid admittance into the class. But somehow the Headmaster was…_swayed_…to allow you to come despite it. I warn you, one foul up and I shall have no qualms with ejecting you immediately."

I was tempted to tip the boy's cauldron over at that exact moment just to see what would happen. But, I was the type of girl that lit her little sister on fire, just the see what happened.

What, everyone does it.

Don't look at me like that. You have too.

Don't lie...

"Today we are working on Deleterius Potions. Like the spell, it will decay something quickly. The dilution we are working on won't eat through skin, but it will eat away things such as clothing, and even hair. This concentration is often used for body-hair removal and by St. Mungo's when they need to get a victim's clothing out of the way to treat an injury."

Oh shit. I get to work with this dipshit to do that? This is a very bad idea. And I don't realize how much so until we are finished making the potion and trying to cork it. It is a two-person process, as the ladle is this metal, heavy-duty-type shit, and the bottle is thick material as well. He is shaking like a leaf in the wind, so I, like a fucking dumbass, hold the bottle while he pours.

And pour he does.

Yep, pours the goddamned liquid all over my front.

And within seconds, I am half naked in the classroom. And it would be the day that I decide to wear the lacy underwear set.

Because that was the only thing that stayed when the potion was through.

Word of advice to all the girls out there. If there is a danger of you losing your clothing, never sit in the front of a classroom. Worse, never sit in the front of the classroom on the day you wear the thin lace bra and the lacy thong.

Bad idea.

Especially when, through some thoroughly fucked-up turn of events, I happened to be the only girl within viewing range, as the girls seemed to all be toward the back of the classroom.

Which left me feeling much like an animal in the zoo. Shit, even Snape was gaping.

I'm not saying I'm perfect…wait, I am, but come on now. I mean, there are much prettier…nope, that's a lie too. But, could they not gape so much. I mean, I don't want to feel so…Grade A, Choice Cut-style here.

And then I feel warmth. And I look up to find Potter standing there, attempting to drape his school robes over my shoulders, without making it look like a gratuitous attempt to look down my front.

Aww, how fucking sweet.

Not on my watch. Good deeds get rewarded, and seeing as how this good deed caused my smitten…ness to become a full on pining, I intended to make sure he got a show he would never forget.

Standing to put the robe "on", I "accidentally" dropped it. So, bending down with my back to Harry, something that incidentally only he could see seeing as Snape had lined me, and him behind me, along the wall of the classroom, and he was standing against if to place the robes over me, I was pretty much giving him quite a show.

I'm not a slut. In fact, Pansy mocked me, calling me a, and I quote…damn this bitch is dumb…a "Penis-Virgin", but I do like to tease.

Ok, I am too cruel to "tease". Its more like torture. But I promise, all participants are willing and thoroughly satisfied, if not overly sexually taunted and frustrated, when I am done mocking their inferior male mind.

I looked back once I was standing again to see a very red-faced Potter, who took his seat quickly and scooted up toward the table as much as he could. It was a general reaction for many of the males in the room it seemed, as they tried to get their last looks in before I was covered completely by his much-larger-than-me robe, but I didn't care about them. It was him I was watching.

Pulling the robe to me, I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. I looked to my right to find Snape standing there, still looking at me. He had been unable to move from heading toward his desk, as he had apparently been on an intercept course to Weasley before my…spectacle. And there, I saw a repeat of something I had wished I forgot.

I don't know, the thought of that greasy bastard with an erection, nonetheless to me, always makes my stomach turn. And right now, I am in danger of losing my lunch on the table.

Breathing into the robe, I turn from Snape and hear him snap out of his…stupor. "Weasley, come with me, now." And then I hear Weasley's stool scrape across the stone floor and some laughter as I am sure his state is…seen by everyone. But then, "Potter, 15 points from Gryffindor, where are your robes, this is a uniform…" And I guess he has finally looked at me. "20 points for your proactivity, Potter." And then the dungeon door flings open and as it does, the signal for class' end sounds, and we all begin to file out.

Damn Red-headed nincompoop.

-----

Granger is an arse.

She doesn't trust me as far as she can throw me, and without her wand, the girl lacks a good deal of physical strength.

In a street-fight, I'd kick her ass. Thoroughly. Trounce her oversized head into the pavement, then get in a car just to drive over her a few times.

Magically, the girl has the tendency to frighten the shit out of me.

Like, at this moment, her walking up to me at the Slytherin Table has not only confused me, but scared me with her willpower and courage.

Damned Muggleborn.

"What?"

"I've come to retrieve Harry's cloak. You have had time to put proper uniform on, as I can see, I have come to get it."

"Where is he?"

"Elsewhere."

"What are you, his fucking lapdog. He can get it if he wants it." Damn, with a wand within blasting range of my face, I should have been a Gryffindor.

…

…I didn't just say that…

…

I did?

Shit.

"Look, I came to get it, it is his favorite set of robes, as they are the only ones broken in at the moment. He is currently doing planning for the D.A., and is therefore not here at the time." She was straining, hard, not to say something scathing or blast at me with her wand, which was shaking in her grasp.

"No, you look. I will give them back to him personally." And the conversation was over.

The girl hated me, I couldn't blame her. I was a Slytherin. Not a bitch, never outright mean to her, but not very nice either.

"Zabini, I will forcibly take the robes from you, as they are not your property. And it still confuses me as to why you are still wearing them when you have obviously been able to change…"

Time for the old snatch-and-run. Grab the dumb girl by her hair and run out of the hallway with her in tow. Slamming her against the wall by the entrance to the hall, I hold her wand arm down and look at her.

"Look Granger, you are Potter's best friend, right?" The girl nodded darkly. "I have a favor to ask you. I really need your help"

This hit her like a ton of bricks. I am tempted to laugh. But…no. A girl needs someone to talk to about her issues, and if I tell any of the girls in my house, they are liable to attempt to kill me.

"Look, I have his robes, true. My issue is…I, I…like Potter." Her eyes still met mine, no look of understanding. "Like, I _like_ him." I try and stress the proper words and then she shows understanding. And then it goes from understanding to a look I don't understand at all. She simply nodded and turns from me, as I release her from my grip.

As she makes to walk away, she states, "After what Ginny's stupid ass did, you are a good improvement. You have my blessing." She said steadily, walking away.

And only after she was gone did I realize. I hadn't asked for the stupid bookworm's blessing, I was trying to ask her a favor. And she walked off…on me…she walked off, on me…

"What a dumb bitch." Was all I strained out before turning and headed off toward the Library. Free periods kick ass, and I love my current one, as I like to spend it in the library.

Fuck you.

I am not a Ravenclaw. Not a bit. I spend it there because it lets me read up on learning things that others don't know. I have a private spot near the curses and jinxes section that I sit in and read up on ways to torture those dumb Hufflepuffs.

------

Yes, as luck would have it, I would find my "spot" occupied by none other than Harry frickin' Potter.

Bastard.

And it would also happen that he would spot me first. Me, as I stand there, reveling in breathing in the fading scent of his cologne left on the robes, and wondering why it is that my perfume and his cologne mixed make such an interestingly entrapping scent.

I feel the need to bottle it and sell it. Its like…pheromones in a bottle.

Not only are we great-looking together, but marketable and profitable as well.

Together? Blaise Zabini…Harry Potter…Blaise Potter…

Harry Zabini…

I laugh some as I realize that name sounds like the famous escape artist. Was a wizard, too. Took those stupid muggle for fools for years, them thinking he was really so ingenious. A unlocking charm, and in the time I takes to say 5 syllables, you are free as a bird in the clear sky.

And here I go doing what I always do. Distancing myself from a distressing situation by musing in awkward happenings that have shit to do with me.

Damn Defense Mechanisms.

"Good Day Blaise."

Blaise?

…

That is my name. Its not the issue. The issue is, he said it. Not Zabini, not Slytherin Slime, not "Hey you bitch!", but…Blaise.

I'm swooning.

And that depresses me.

Snapping out, I say, "Yes Pot…Harry."

He looks at me like I am nothing. Which is interesting, because I see him glance at my chest when I start unbuttoning my…no, his robe to return it. Always a plus to wear the push-up with a low-necked top. Draws nice attention.

And if there is one thing Blaisey loves, its attention.

-----

He's reading.

I am sitting here, across from him, laying on my stomach, enough cleavage to actually put some guys in an erectile catatonic coma,

And the bastard is reading.

Blaisey loves attention. And hates not getting it. Especially when she really really wants it.

And when it comes to Potter,

I want it.

Bad.

No, I need it.

Hmm…Wonder how to get it.

…

The look on his face when I jumped on him and kissed him was priceless. Especially due to the fact that I am seated on his lap, on the floor of the library.

Also, it could be that his chin is resting right in the crevice of previously stated cleavage, and that I was literally attempting to rape his mouth with my tongue.

Hey, not every day a girl gets to get the jump on Potter.

I am going to hell for this, something that I am proud of. I find a bit of time, oddly, to revel in how right it feels, before I am dragged back to reality when I realize that, instead of throwing me off like a diseased leech, he has somehow turned it so I am on my back, and he is atop me, holding my arms above my head. His turn to attack my mouth until I can feel the bruising and the swelling of my lips.

I'm a kinky bitch, I like it kinda rough.

So what?

It's a beautiful sight, I am sure, as I am pinned down, my Slytherin scarf somewhere discarded a long time ago, with Potter atop me. If someone were to show up, I doubt they would care about the fact that it looks like goodie-goodie Potter is raping me, and more the fact of what is clear.

Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy,

Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin Queen,

Snogging on the floor of the library.

-----

Screw snogging.

I am feeling particularly kinky today, and apparently so was he.

Shagging in the library.

We deserve a medal. 2 powerful-ass silencing charms, and we still almost got caught. I guess that is due to a bookshelf losing half its contents onto the floor when my back was banged into it.

Yep, Madam Pince rounded the corner as Harry lifted me off of him, and carried me from the library, around the corner and into an empty classroom. Slammed into the door before it could close, it was on all over again.

And my goddess did it feel bloody amazing.

I sat there and looked at him after we were done. He was looking at me too, and we finally stood. I made to give him his robe, but he shook his head, telling me to keep it.

"It looks so bloody much better on you than me." He had said.

And then we made to leave. And awkwardly enough, he leaned over, and kissed me. Deeply. And he even gave my ass a pat before turning and checking the corridor and then leaving.

I make it a point not to sigh often. But I just did.

I think I have bloody well fallen for that black haired, goofy grinning arsehole.

Damned Gryffindors.

Them and their courage.

He would be the only one with the courage to stand up and take me from that arse Malfoy.

Dipshit.

Potter…

Harry…

GODDAMMIT! I am in love with that little shit Harry frickin' Potter.

I am gonna so regret admitting that in the middle of the Great Hall.

In the middle of lunch.

Out loud.

Very,

Very,

Loud.

Goddammit.

* * *

**A/N: K, this is 2, probably 2/4 actually, 3 is mostly done as well. Now here I make this clear. I'm a guy, yes, but in creative writing class once, we had to write something from the other gender's perspective. That is how this idea popped into my head. I'm planning out a sequel which is likely from Harry's perspective, can't decide if I want it post-SQ, or the same events from his eyes, let me know what you all think. Well...yeah, here u go, more FFO soon.**  



	3. Bitch

Ginny fucking Weasley

Is a fucking Whore…

A Bitch of the highest order of Bitches.

If there was Bitch rankings, she'd be at the very top of that food chain, I'm sure of it.

It's a fact that many in my year, and furthermore, many in my house have checked my temperature, wondering what took me so long to realize it.

I guess I just need proof of things.

Walking in on her and Corner banging in a closet would be proof enough.

Catching her, Corner and Longbottom in a broom closet, getting it on like the future of the Wizarding race depended on it,

That, my good friends,

Is too much goddamned information.

And what made it more funny when she gets walked in on is by who.

Once more, it seems like the girl puts out a beacon for me. And worse…Harry. Yep, me and good ol' Pothead were heading into that broom closet to…

Uh…talk.

Yeah, talk! That's it!

We were heading in to talk, and I had his tie in my hand, and dragging him in with my back to the goings on, first thing I see is his face. Then I enter the silencing field and BOOM!

Moan frickin' city.

Disgusting sight to turn around and see the girl like that. Bad enough I had to see her and Snape, but now…

I felt like vomiting. So did Harry. The little bitch killed the mood…

…

Yes, I am considerate for her. I understand how she is feeling, using her body to find happiness after her father was assassinated the day he took over as Minister.

Here I could make a joke, something pertaining to how short a run he had as a the leader of all Magic Kind, but…no. In truth, the girl shut down. It was a family reaction, her brother, the dipshit redhead that he is, even tried a womanizing stint for a month after, before Potter slapped him over the head and Granger gave him such a rant I heard it down in Slytherin Dungeons. But this little whore seems to be stuck in her ways. She had stopped the moment she got a hold of my Dear-Old-Dumbass Potter, but the second she gave Snape the lipservice, and got caught, she was back on the whoring market.

As you can see, I don't care for one Ginny Weasley.

I say this as we are informed that her mother has passed away, supposedly of "heartbreak", which translates magically into a self-induced Killing Curse. And therefore, I learn something I did not want to learn.

But was so fucking obvious a Hufflepuff could have ascertained the info and connected it.

Ginevra.

Minerva.

Not perfect line up, but…I find out now that my aunt is the little shit's godmother.

And now, according to wizarding law, yippie-fucking-kai-yay,

She's moving in.

With me.

This sucks royal ass.

-----

Interesting that me and Potter have been dating this long. Going on…hmm…3 and a half months now. Gotten on good, the two most fearless of our kind. We came out publicly the second day we were dating, meaning two days after the library incident. We had gone to each other to ask about what had happened in the library the first day only to find that he was fine with being with me. And we were together for that whole day. And then the next day, what should happen but…we finally get caught.

What can I say, I'm a screamer.

And did I ever have a reason to scream. With hindsight I see that I couldn't walk straight and model-like for a good week after that.

Gets worse.

Yes. What's worse you ask?

The fact that we got caught mid-lunch, from my screaming. I have a thing about doing things where I can get caught I guess.

Where you ask?

Right up against the doors to the Great Hall from the Slytherin Dungeons.

There goes that damned Gryffindor bravery. Especially since he stormed into the common room, with a few people looking and everything, and dragged me out by my hair. Slammed me into the wall, and next thing I know, its scream, scream, moan, and a mantra to remain a hold of my consciousness.

Is it possible to die from over-pleasuring?

Awkward that I can say I lost my virginity in a library, and got caught having sex my first time on the floor of the school lunch room. And got caught by the entire school.

Why couldn't the doors not decide to open then?

Fucking Dumbledore and his fucking see-through-walls shit.

And now, as I look back on that, I laugh. Thanks to me and ol' Pothead, with his bravery so goddamned high that he will go with anything I do, we have thoroughly defiled half the school with our fornication.

Yes. Fun that I can get Prophylaxis from Snape whenever I need it, because I have shit on him. And I know you are all looking at me funny for this, so what. I'm a Slytherin. Blackmail isn't beneath me. In fact, its right on my level. I can reach it fine without a stepstool or using someone's shoulders to stand on…

This is so off the point, but so what.

The point is, the little rat shit Weasley has been trying to play up the whole "pity me" card on Potter, and, while he isn't falling for it, she is thoroughly pissing me off by popping up, following us, and then trying to use her "sadness" to stop our snogging mid-kiss. Harry is too "gentlemanly" to let our attempts at personal satisfaction continue if the sad little redhead is around.

You know what they say, 1st time and its my bad. 2nd time, its her's.

1,048th time, the little bitch dies in her sleep over vacation.

Which is where our current problem is. Due to my family being pure-blooded and all, my house, or more, my Aunt's house is deemed fairly safe for Harry. Because Hogwarts is closing down for the holidays due to the Ministry trying to "conserve funds", he's going somewhere. And after falling into the Great Hall in mid…sex, one can not deny a place to their boyfriend.

Especially when said one's Aunt was the one who got you two covered and away. And gave "The Talk" to both of you.

Pointless after the display really, but, better late than never.

Who am I kidding. My family is fucked up. I mean, I got the talk about females and the "cycle" when I was 15.

I had my first period at 11.

Damn, and to think I am bringing poor Potter into this.

…

Yes, I meant for the holiday, not permanently. I am not thinking like that anymore! Its not even a thought in my head!

…

You don't believe me, do you.

…

So what if I have our first 5 kids' names planned out. And I called about housing for after Hogwarts a month ago. And so what if I already have my wedding ring on hold at the jeweler in Hogsmeade, and the second he walks in they will inform him and bring it to him.

I am a Slytherin, we _don't_ jump into situations.

…

But apparently we _**do**_ get very bad cases of denial.

…

Shut your laughing or you will be barren and stuck in a hospital with a donkey's head growing out of your ass. Now I know I should stop with the threats and all, but they help me cope. They make me happy. And a Happy Blaise is a Non-Homicidal Blaise. And a Non-Homicidal Blaise, leave a still breathing bystander.

Only issue now is, Horny Blaise+Lack of HarryLack of Sex. And that leads to a very very unhappy Blaise.

"Blaise!"

My knight in fucking shining...um...freshly ironed robes. Turning around, I catch Harry's eyes. He is running across the hallway toward me, and I see no bit of red hair anywhere. We are alone, and home free. And directly between our positions is an empty classroom. Empty because I just left Binns' last class of the day.

A look.

And that is all it takes before into the classroom we go, and its all downhill from there.

-----

"Potter, we really must stop meeting like this." I comment as I suddenly find us both on the floor of the hallway. Leaning on the door was a bad idea on his part, but worse on mine as I pushed him on it. And for some dumbass reason, the door opened, and here we were, laying there, me on him, in the middle of the hallway.

And looking up, we catch eyes with Draco Malfoy.

"Ahh…Lord Ferret, how has your day been. Satisfactory I hope?" Sometimes I just sigh listening to him talk. Oh how Slytherin my ickle Harrykins has become.

"Shut up Potter." And now his eyes are on me. "Gaby, get off of him and come with me." I don't move. Who is this dipshit, telling me what to do. And then the last straw. "Now!"

It was a flick of a wand, and there was a bright pink ferret on the floor next to us, stunned and on its back, feet in the air and all. It was clearly female, a feat that was no easy task to learn in Transfiguration, but it was pulled off flawlessly.

My transfiguration is good, but faulty at times. It had worked, and paired with Harry's stunning charm, I figure we had a good amount of time.

So…back in the classroom.

-----

Ok, we have a problem here people. The goddamned ferret is still knocked out. No awakening charms are working, and we can't turn him back. Asking Harry about the spell he used only made me realize how screwed up the situation was. Harry had used a human stunning charm that locked internal magic and knocked the human in question into a deep stunning. It caused them to only be able to be awakened by outside means, something that the Stunning Charm didn't have the ability to provide.

However, the human stunning charm was not to be used on animals. And with some fucked up timing issue, it was, because Malfoy was officially a ferret at the time.

So what are we left with?

A fucking comatose pink female ferret that looks keeled over where Draco Malfoy had been a few hours before. That is a situation that could get a girl in a lot of trouble. So…what am I to do?

Simple.

Write a note, describing the situation, tie it…or better yet, pin it, to the ferret, and leave him…her…it, outside the hospital wing and run like hell.

Make it through the night and we are home free. Literally. Break starts tomorrow, and I am so glad to be getting out of her. So glad in fact that I feel the urge to just throw the ferret down the hall and drag Harry back into the classroom all over again.

So what do I do?

Just as I said.

Funny as hell for Mrs. Norris to be coming around the corner to be smacked in the face with a fucking flying pink ferret. Stupid fucking cat was knocked shitless and furthermore, slid across the floor and right off the side of the stairs.

Or where the stairs had been.

They chose just then to move, and with a loud cat-scream, the ugly orange-ish cat fell long long long,

And hopefully to her death.

That killed the mood, and with a kiss goodnight, Potter whispered "G'Night Gaby" and ran full tilt toward his common. I followed suit and ran my own way, scooping the Ferret's body up and then playing hacky-sack with it in the dungeons for a good hour before I fell asleep.

Life is good.

-----

Life sucks.

Royally.

"What do you mean no touching of any kind! He's my boyfriend, that is why he is here!"

"I know Blaise, but it is just not fair for Ginny. She is here, and we know how much she wants Harry and cares about him, and it is like you are rubbing it in her face if it is there too much."

"So kick the whore out!"

"Blaise Gabriella Zabini! Young woman, what have I told you about…"

I know this by heart. "…using such foul language in this household. If only your dear Nana could hear you, she would give you such a talking-to…" I mouth all of this as goofily and sarcastically as possible as she says it, and then cross my eyes and inflate my cheeks and stick out my tongue. And then I look at her.

And she laughs. My damned mother is so easy to crack. Its not very hard. And when she does, then I let it all go. "Look, I will not limit my love and furthermore censor my feelings because that sl…girl, is here. I will have my relationship with Harry, and if she doesn't want to see it, she can go fu…fornicate herself."

"But what about that nice boy your father set you up with, what was his name, Mallfool…Monkboy…Malfoy! Yes, that boy, the Malfoy boy. What about him, why not just date him, and leave Harry and Ginny to settle their problems."

"I forbid it!" Aunt Minnie to the frickin' rescue. "I forbid my niece to even stand in the same room as that slime. Your stupid git of a husband lost his mind betrothing her to him, and if I have to marry Potter and Gaby here, myself, I will make sure that slime Lucius is never in any way directly related to my dear niece. And through her, me."

I could kiss the old coot if I didn't make out Ginny's shadow turning the corner I just saw Harry take a moment ago.

Ever tried to hop over the back of a couch? Ever done it and it didn't work? Ever done it, missed, and fell on the ground?

The shit is embarrassing, even in front of family.

And it hurt.

But like the soldier I am, I hop back up. Only to forget I am on an area rug as I try to run, and the rug slips on the hardwood floors, and I once more taste the floor. And for some dumb reason, as I peel myself off of the pine, I wonder if there is a floor-flavored Bernie Bott's Bean. And if there is, I could now identify it, having had such intimate contact with it in these past few moments.

But down the hall I run soon enough, only to slide into the kitchen in time to see Harry sitting on the counter, scooting to the side more and more as Ginny tries to advance on him. Apparently in the Gryffindor Common, this has happened a few times. Me and Granger always tell him he is too soft concerning her, but he never listens. Never yells. Never pushes her hands away and says, "Bitch, get away from me!" like I would. He's a good person.

I need those in my life.

But just because he is good, and my Slytherin side is rubbing off on him, doesn't mean I am some kind of noble girl who takes it lightly when some broad is hitting on her man.

So what did I do you ask?

Took a skillet out, and plopped it down on the counter. It was almost lunch time, and I slammed it as hard as I could, saying, "Anyone hungry?"

Was complete coincidence that her hand happened to be under the path of the skillet.

...I swear!

Damn sure I, at the very least, caused some internal bleeding.

Yes, evil, I know. But I don't trust her. Seems to me like her and Malfoy would be perfect for each other. Clingy, conniving little shits who can't realize that they aren't wanted. I sure as hell don't want that little whore near Harry, and next time, screw the hand,

I'm aiming at her head.

Think I'm joking around? Well, you are sadly mistaken. And as I smile, I watch her face. Never would I have thought the damned bitch would do some kind of leap across the island in the kitchen at me and try and tackle me. And in a few seconds, my instincts, which aren't very good, and Harry's actions, which are fast, I was pushed to the side a bit, and the stupid girl fell over the island, got caught on the side and flipped over it, landing on her back, looking up at me.

I felt like one of those bull-herding people, ya know, with the red capes. Red…ugh, I do not like the color. Could be why I hate her, or it could be her that makes me hate it. You decide, I am too busy laughing as I look down at the girl. And then it sobers up quick.

She is crying.

Not alright in any way shape or form. If I am around when the old people get here, they will want me to go with her and talk and have girl talk and do nails and hair and talk about boys and so on and so forth.

Not gonna happen.

I bite my nails, a secret that many know about me, so nothing to do. I refuse to let anyone touch my hair outside of me and Harry. And if this bitch does to mine what she did to her's, I will personally light each of her hairs on fire and wait until they burn away slowly. As for boy talk…

Harry is my property. I know it, He knows it, She doesn't. She is stupid. But she will learn, that or die.

Now you may be looking at me as some kind of…female chauvinist. I'm not, its just a known fact that I own Harry. Not as much as he has me wrapped around his finger…hehe, in more ways than one, as the metaphor here is very weird to have been brought up, especially given all of our activities, but I have him as my own. I mean damn, he got me good. I spent like, 5 hours in the Gryffindor Common Room once, late night studying for mid-term exams. Weird to be there with so many people that hate you.

Reminded me of my childhood, with my father and his illegitimate bastard kids that were either halfbloods or squibs, meaning they all hated me. Great fun, I felt so at home, especially when the redheaded broad comes in crying, and literally tries to bully me off Harry's lap so he can "comfort her".

Females can be quite conniving in fact. Its actually interesting to see someone so underhanded like myself at work. I wonder sometimes if, long ago, I wandered down the wrong path, and chose to join the "Dark Side" and use my powers for evil, if I would become a manipulative slut like Ginny.

…Ok, no more watching fucking American space movie marathons on TV late night when my brain is fried and open to intrusion. That shit was corny and even I know it. But it was fun to say I guess.

Either way, it seemed that Harry's breaking point had finally been reached. "Get the fuck off of me, Ginny!" And he lifted me up to my proper seat upon his lap, and glared at her with his shining green eyes.

Those eyes…

And Ginny had the tact to at least looked semi embarrassed. That was, before she growled and leapt at me, teeth bared and evil bitch-claws on full extend. But she never got to me, as suddenly I was up and carried. Harry.

My Harry. And in moments, we were in my room. And he laid me down on the bed there, and sat beside me. He sat there looking at him. His eyes were hiding something. Hiding something, something he rarely did to me. Usually it was all open, but I didn't get what was happening. What was going on in his mind…

As long as it isn't that bitch, I'm sure I can live with it.

And I will be there next to him no matter what.

Love, you say? Sure.

But what's in a word…

…Bitch.


End file.
